


Don't You Want Me, Baby?

by pauraque



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Age Play, F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22818364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: Gary still sometimes wakes up expecting to find that he's fifteen years old, in his bedroom at his mom's house, and this whole thing was just a dream. Maybe part of him even wants that. And maybe he doesn't hide it as well as he thinks he does.
Relationships: Dr. Girlfriend/Henchman 21
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	Don't You Want Me, Baby?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hannelore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannelore/gifts).



> For Hannelore, on the occasion of her birthday. ♥

Gary's eyes opened, bleary and full of sleep. He felt the bed under him sinking, pressed down by a warm, solid body that nudged against his legs. But it couldn't be time for school already...

"Mom?" he croaked into the strangely uncomfortable pillow.

There was a low, smoky chuckle. "That's kinky. But I can get into it."

He jerked half-upright with a little shot of adrenaline, disoriented. "Oh, crap, sorry!" The overdecorated living room came into focus. He'd fallen asleep on the couch again.

The light through the window was still a soft dawn gray, but she was already dressed in sleek, professional black. "I didn't want to wake you." She gazed down at him apologetically, her hair falling around her ears. "I have to go, there's a Council thing. But we're out of milk, and you know how he gets when..."

Dragging himself up to a sitting position and trying not to let his legs brush against the curve of her hip, he rubbed his face and nodded. "Yeah, I know. The mighty Monarch can't drink black coffee," he said with a resigned little wave of his hand. "He's not up yet?"

She rolled her eyes, half-laughing. "God, no. You've got time."

"Is the bodega open?"

"Doubt it. You might have to hit 7-Eleven."

"Great," he sighed. "I'll get my shoes. And the bullet-proof vest."

Her mouth, mahogany-red in the near darkness, curved into a wryly amused smile. "Oh, it can't be that bad," she said, placing her hand down on the couch cushion beside his thigh and leaning towards him in a way that might have meant she was just uncomfortable sitting on the edge of the couch in such a tight outfit. But it also might have meant something else. Probably not, though. Right?

And then, with a glint in her eye, her voice softened into a playful tease as she said: "I know you don't mind going to the store for Mommy."

He drew in a sharp breath. That word on her lips — _Mommy_ — slipped like a finely whetted blade in between his ribs and found a secret, vital spot he never even knew was there. An unfamiliar shiver ran through his body down to his toes, which curled hard in his dingy white socks.

She held his gaze. Calm. Steadying him. Her eyebrows quirked upward for a split second, wordlessly asking whether this was okay.

"Yeah," he said at last, hoarsely, finding his tongue dry. "I mean, no, I don't... I don't mind going to the store for you..." He swallowed shakily, insanely aware of how close she was to him, how perfectly put together, and how naked he suddenly felt beside her in his rumpled T-shirt and sweatpants. He didn't actually think he could say it, until the second it came out of his mouth, small and vulnerable: "...M-mommy."

Her smile broadened into an indulgent grin. "That's my good boy," she said. There was a note of sweetness in her voice that he'd never heard before, and the understanding settled inside him with weird certainty that he really, _really_ needed to be her good boy.

She leaned in and planted a light peck on his cheek, which felt more intimate somehow than the time they'd actually kissed. Then she rose and stood over him with casual authority, her hip cocked to one side and her shoulders loose — more relaxed than he'd seen her look in months. A spark flickered across his mind: Maybe she needed this too.

"I have to get going or the shuttle's gonna leave without me," she said, reaching down to rub a bit of lipstick off his cheek with a gloved thumb. "When I get back, we'll talk." And then she left, only pausing in the doorway to remind him with a sly glance over her shoulder: "Don't forget the milk."


End file.
